


Heart of a Hunter - Act II

by MuchAmused



Series: Heart of a Hunter Saga [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Act II, Canon Typical Violence, Case Fic, Doctor!Reader, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hunting time, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Medical, Much Amused, MuchAmusedAboutNothing on Tumblr, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Protective Dean Winchester, Reader is a Doctor, Series, Slow Burn, Whump, Worried Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 15:06:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16997295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuchAmused/pseuds/MuchAmused
Summary: What started out as a fateful trip to your emergency room has turned into developing a friendship with the Winchesters. When your brother is in trouble on a hunt, you turn to the only ones you can trust to help.





	1. Chapter 1

 

You saw the missed call from your brother on your phone after you'd gone into the doctor's lounge to collect yourself.

You'd just been forced to crack open a young boy’s chest in the ER, manually pumping his heart with your hand to keep him alive until an operating room was free. He was in surgery now, and you couldn't decide whether it was nerves or adrenaline making your hands shake as you looked at your phone screen, seeing the notification that you had missed call from your brother and a voicemail.

You knew something was wrong the second you heard your brother's voice on the message.

"Hey, it's me," he said. "I'm in Storm Lake, Iowa.... I'm after a Rugaru ... and I don't know what's going on, but I feel like I'm losing my damn mind." He was clearly out of breath, and you hoped it was only because he was running. "I swear to God I burned this piece of shit alive yesterday ... but it - it's back somehow.... Things are getting ugly, and I'll figure it out, but I just want you to know I'm so proud of you, sis. I love you."

The message ended abruptly, and your heart sank. The panic and confusion in your brother's voice was enough to bring tears to your eyes, but you blinked them away and dialed his number. It rang several times before his voicemail greeting came on.

"Hey, call me and let me know you're okay," you said after the beep. "I'm freaking out here." You sighed. "Love you. Call me."

You made two more phone calls from the doctor's lounge. The first was to the airport to get a plane ticket, the second was to Dean Winchester.

You'd spoken to Dean and Sam a few times since their run in with a pack of Werewolves and a Kitsune had led to Dean spending a night in your hospital. You had insisted they call you if they needed medical advice since you understood the nature of hunting injuries. They'd taken you up on your offer, which had led to you staying in touch.

Dean answered on the third ring. "Hey, Doc," he greeted you, the smile evident in his tone.

"Dean," you breathed, your heart swelling with relief at hearing his voice. "Hey, where are you and Sam right now?"

"We're at the bunker. Just got back from a hunt in Colorado. Why?" His tone was somber now. "Is something wrong?"

"It's my brother," you said, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes. "He left me this cryptic voicemail half an hour ago. He's after a Rugaru and something went wrong ... and now he - he won't pick up when I call. He's in trouble, I just know it."

"Hey, hey, just breathe,” Dean said.

"Dean," you said, taking a breath like he'd suggested, but more to steady your voice than anything. "He sounded like he was saying goodbye."

Dean was quiet for a beat before he spoke again. "Do you know where he is?"

You noticed he didn't try to make you feel better. Didn't try to assure you that your brother was probably fine. Dean wasn't going to lie to you by pretending it couldn't be as bad as you imagined, and you wanted to hug him for it.

"He's in Iowa. Some place called Storm Lake."

You heard Dean ask Sam to locate the town on his phone and then he was back. "Sam and I are about five and a half hours out," he said. We'll leave right now and go check things out."

"I booked a flight," you told him. "I'll meet you there. The airport is about an hour from Storm Lake so I'll rent a car to get the rest of the way."

"Look," Dean said. "I can't make you stay, but I'd feel better if you let us handle it."

"I'm going, Dean," you insisted. "He's in trouble, and I'm not going to stay home. You can't really expect me to, can you? What if he's hurt?"

Dean sighed. "Just promise you won't do anything until we get there. And call me when your plane lands."

"I will. And Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"No need for that. Be safe."

You hung up the phone and headed for the Chief's office to let him know you were taking some time off for a family emergency. Then you popped into the viewing room to check on the boy whose heart you had pumped by hand. Surgery seemed to be going well from what you could tell, and the cardiothoracic surgeon was confident in his remarks to you through the intercom that the boy had a good chance.

 

The flight wasn't long as far as plane rides go, but it seemed to take forever. You had called your brother again before your flight, and first thing after you landed, but to no avail. You took the first rental car you could secure and called Dean as you started the engine.

"Where are you?" you asked when he answered.

"We're about a hundred and fifty miles out," he said. "Do you know where he's staying?"

"No. But if I can find his truck-"

"Please," Dean said, something like desperation in his voice. "Just wait for us to get there. We don't know exactly what we're dealing with here. I don't want you getting hurt."

"I won't do anything stupid," you assured him. "Just hurry. Call me when you get to town."

You hung up and pulled out into the road, praying that you were being paranoid and that you'd get to town and find your brother alive and well. You couldn't even think about the other possibility as you drove.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam are quick to respond to your desperate call for help following your brother's cryptic voicemail.

Dean hung up the phone and pressed down harder on the gas pedal, hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. His heart was racing just a little harder at the thought of you getting to town first.

"A Rugaru is a good fit judging by the newspaper headlines I'm seeing," Sam stated, eyes glued to his phone screen.

Dean grunted. "Yeah, well, I wish knowing what we're getting into made me feel better."

"How much do you think she's hunted?" Sam asked. Dean glanced at him, eyebrows raised. Sam shrugged and said, "I just figured maybe you'd talked about it at some point."

Dean frowned. "Even with a concussion during that hospital stay I didn't just come right out and say, 'Hey, between all the late nights studying for med school and the whole saving lives as a kick-ass doctor thing, when did you last hunt down and kill something creepy?'"

Sam rolled his eyes, but didn't argue the point.

"I don't know." Dean shrugged. "If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say she hasn't done any actual hunting in a long time."

Sam nodded, his chest heaving with a deep breath. "What about her brother? He's been doing this for forever, right? Just like us?"

"Just like us would mean not hunting alone.”

"But he's got to know what he's doing, at least," Sam added.

"Yeah, I'm sure he does." Dean chewed his bottom lip. "I just have this feeling...."

"He might be fine," Sam added, almost as if he were trying to convince himself as much as anything.

Dean sighed. "I don't know. You should have heard her voice when she called."

But Dean didn't say what he was really thinking. That he hadn't forgotten the way you looked at him in the hospital when you'd realized exactly who he was. The mix of almost reverent-like respect in your eyes, and the way you still managed to put him in his place in spite of that.

How he was afraid he'd never be able to live up to it, and how he was driving right into a situation where he might prove himself right.

 

*** * * * ***

 

As far as you could tell there were three motels in Storm Lake. One was a family resort that didn't seem especially hunter-friendly, and you ruled it out without stopping by. The first of the other two was a bust, but the overweight man behind the front desk at the last one recognized your brother from a picture on your phone.

"He's staying here alright," he said to your relief. "He paid for a week. That was three nights ago."

"Have you seen him today at all?" you pressed. He shook his head, frowning like he was sorry to disappoint you. "Can you at least tell me which room is his? He's my brother and I think he's in trouble. I'm a doctor. I've got to find him."

He studied you for a moment, the hard set of your jaw, the worry and determination in your eyes, and then his shoulders slumped a little in defeat. "Twenty-three."

You thanked him and headed back out to your rental, opening the trunk to retrieve a lock pick set. Your brother crashed at your place every chance he had so the two of you could catch up, and you could dote on him and make sure he ate well for a few days before he took off again on another hunt. You'd been sure to collect a few supplies from his room before catching your flight, the lock pick set being one of them.

You were a little rusty, but the basics came right back to you, and it only took a few minutes to get in the door. You hesitated only a moment, suddenly scared of what you might find inside. Taking a deep breath to draw strength, you opened the door and scanned the room with your eyes. He wasn't dead on the floor, and a relieved sound that was almost like a sob combined with a hysterical laugh escaped your lips. You took another deep breath and moved inside, closing the door behind you.

His stuff was scattered, clothes hanging off the back of the only chair.

You tried his number one more time, still getting the voicemail. You'd stopped leaving messages after the third one, hating that it felt like an admission of the hopelessness of the situation.

Your brother wasn't so careless as to leave newspaper clippings of missing persons laying around for the maids to find, but you knew he'd have done his fair share of research. You rummaged around and found his laptop in the top of the closet on the shelf.

Cracking the password was easier than picking the lock. You knew him well, and after a few attempts you tried your own birthday and gained access to all of his research and notes.

You read everything he'd collected about the three people who had gone missing. He'd gotten his hands on a copy of the police report for two of them. The bodies had been ravaged by what the cops were calling a wild animal, flesh eaten clean off the bones, except that the last one had happened in the victim's kitchen, with no sign of anything breaking in. The police were stumped by that detail, to say the least.

He had a name in his notes.

_Kevin Jacobson_

It seemed pretty definitive, but you were scanning for anything else you may have missed in your first read through when your phone rang.

"Where are you?" came Dean's voice as soon as you answered. You gave him directions and then combed over the notes again for a few minutes until you heard the rumble of that old Impala pull up outside.

You opened the door just as Sam and Dean were getting out of the car. "Thanks for coming, guys," you said to them both as they approached. "I don't know what I'd do-"

"Don't mention it," Dean said softly, pausing in front of you at the threshold of the door. His eyes locked on yours, his face somber. "We're gonna find him." Then he stepped up and put one arm around your shoulders, pulling you in long enough to leave a kiss on the top of your head.

You took a breath, giving a small nod against his chin. Dean released you and moved inside the room to search for clues, just as you'd done.

Sam followed closely behind, squeezing your shoulder with a hand. "Hey," he said in greeting."What have you found?"

"Notes on the case," you said as you handed him the laptop. "They're pretty detailed. Gets that from our mom."

Sam sat down at the desk to get a better look. Dean had done a quick once over of the room, but he stood at the bottom of the bed now and squared his shoulders toward you, looking like he wanted to ask you something.

"What is it?" you urged.

"Do you still have the message he left on your phone?"

You nodded and pulled the phone out of your pocket, dialing and entering the pass code at the prompt. You held the phone out in front of you, pressing the speaker button. Dean's brow furrowed and Sam's head shot up as the message began to play.

> _"Hey, it's me. I'm in Storm Lake, Iowa.... I'm after a Rugaru ... and I don't know what's going on, but I feel like I'm losing my damn mind.... I swear to God I burned this piece of shit alive yesterday ... but it - it's back somehow.... Things are getting ugly, and I'll figure it out, but I just want you to know I'm so proud of you, sis. I love you."_

You listened quietly, and it wasn't until the message finished that you realized you'd let yourself sink down onto the edge of the bed.

"He already burned it?" Sam said more than asked.

You shrugged. "I know it doesn't make any sense."

"Any leads in his notes?" Dean asked.

"There's a name," you offered. "Kevin Jacobson. It might not be definitive, but it's a start. There are also copies of two police reports."

You spent the next few minutes trying to summarize what you'd read in the notes for Sam and Dean to catch them up.

Dean rubbed his face with his hand. "Okay, you and I are going to hit up the local police station and keep an eye out for your brother's truck along the way," he said to you. "Let me grab my bag. I'll be ready in a few."

"I'll track down this Kevin Jacobson guy and see what I can find out," Sam added. You tossed Sam your rental car keys and he gestured to the laptop and said, "Is it okay if I take this with me?"

"Of course."

Sam and Dean headed out the door to retrieve their bags. It only took Dean a few minutes to change his clothes in the motel room bathroom. When he walked back out he was wearing a black suit and went to the mirror above the desk to put on his tie. You couldn't help but smile as you watched him.

Dean looked almost flustered when he met your gaze through the mirror "I know, I know, the monkey suit...."

"I was just thinking you clean up pretty well, Winchester." The corner of his mouth hitched up just a bit and he fumbled with his tie. "Here," you said, tapping him on the shoulder. "Let me." He turned around to face you, dropping his hands to his sides. You fixed his tie, stepped back to admire your work and gave him a thumbs up. He pulled his suit jacket on while you grabbed your purse off the bed and said, "We're all set, Agent."

“Thanks," he told you as he opened the door. He called out to Sam that the two of you were leaving, and Sam answered from where he was changing inside the bathroom that he'd touch base with you soon, and then you followed Dean out into the parking lot.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for your brother continues with hello from the Winchesters. With every new clue to your brother's disappearance and the case he was working, comes a new level of desperation as you hope time isn't running out.

Dean asked you to describe your brother's pickup truck to him and you both kept your eyes peeled for it as he drove you to the Storm Lake Police Department.

He put the car in park and you moved to reach for the handle to get out, but Dean stopped you with his outstretched hand.

"Hold up," he said. "Better let me take this."

You couldn't hide the shock in your expression. "I can't come with you? Dean, he's my brother."

"Exactly." Dean's face softened as he looked at you. "I can't go in there acting like I'm FBI to get information and have the guy's sister with me. They'll never buy it." You sighed in frustration, but mostly because you knew he was right. "I'll make it quick," he added, and he left the car running for you as he got out.

You watched him walk inside regretfully and resigned yourself to wait. A Credence Clearwater song was playing and you turned up the volume in an attempt to take your mind off things, but it didn't help much.

Dean was only inside the station for about ten minutes, but it felt at least twice that long. You were relieved to finally see him come back outside, a manila folder in hand, but found it impossible to read the expression on his face.

"Well?" You asked, turning down the volume as Dean climbed back into the driver's seat.

"He was here yesterday," Dean stated. "Asking about Kevin Jacobson."

"And?"

"Jacobson was reported missing by his fiance just the day before."

"Think Jacobson could be our Rugaru? Or a victim?"

"Hard to know which yet," Dean said. "I think your brother has him on his radar for a reason. Trying to fast track this so we can find him soon, he's probably our best bet."

Dean pulled out his phone, dialed Sam, and put it on speaker for your benefit.

"Hey," Sam answered.

"He was here at the station asking after Jacobson yesterday. The guy was reported missing. Jacobson has to be wrapped up in this," Dean told him. "What have you got on him?"

"I'm just leaving his house," Sam answered. "His fiance confirmed that his appetite had become insatiable the last few days. He is definitely one of our Rugarus. Or was."

"Was?" you asked.

"One of them?" Dean exclaimed. "What makes you think there's more than one?"

"In the voicemail," Sam started. "Your brother mentioned he had already burned the Rugaru, right?"

"Yeah," you said.

"Well, it turns out Kevin Jacobson has a twin brother named Michael. They're identical."

"Of course he does, and of course they are," Dean said in exasperation, rubbing his face. "And Rugaru shit is genetic."

"Right." Sam said. "Michael came back into town when he heard his brother had gone missing. He's staying at Kevin's house, and apparently as of last night he was acting really strange, even tried to eat a raw steak. Kevin's fiance hasn't seen him at all today. He was already gone when she woke up."

"He burned the first Rugaru and the twin brother turns into one," Dean said, turning in his seat to look right at you.

Your heart sank even further into the depths of your stomach as you processed this new information. No wonder your brother sounded so confused on the message he'd left you. You instinctively pulled your phone out and dialed him again, silently praying he'd just pick up and tell you where to find him.

You wanted to hear him laughing at your declaration that you'd enlisted the Winchesters to help, and then tell you it was an overreaction because he'd already taken care of the second monster and was just cleaning up the mess.

You wanted that now more than anything in the world.

But what you got was his voicemail greeting, yet again. You numbly hung up, listlessly dropping your phone onto your lap. Dean ended the call with Sam and watched you in concern.

"Hey," Dean said, but his voice seemed far away. He called your name then, but you were slow to react, a new level of anxiety consuming everything as it settled in your chest. It wasn't until you felt his gentle touch, fingers cradling your chin and forcing your eyes to meet his, that you realized you had completely checked out for a moment, swallowed up in worry and anticipation.

"Yeah?" you said softly, eyes focusing.

He didn't ask if you were okay, but he did lean in closer, his intense green eyes filling up your vision. "This is a huge break in the case," he said to you. "We're going to find that son of a bitch Rugaru, and when we do we'll find your brother."

Your eyelids fell closed with a breath, but you felt Dean's thumb brush across your cheek and you opened them again.

"We're in the home stretch here," he said, eyes searching yours. "Just don't lose faith in me.... Okay?" You found yourself nodding and Dean released you. "That's my girl." Jaw clenched, he gripped the steering wheel and backed up the car to pull onto the road.

Dean didn't like that look in your eyes as he pulled away from the Storm Lake Police Department. He recognized that look. He was no stranger to it himself. He knew all too well that you were just now letting yourself consider all of the possibilities. You'd been in fight or flight mode after getting your brother's message.

And goddammit you were a fighter.

Of course you were. But now the reality of the situation was creeping up, dark and bitter. He didn't know your brother, and you were his and Sam's best resource. He just needed you to hold on.

The sun was going down now, streaking the sky with purple and orange. It was beautiful and serene, in perfect contrast to the mood in the car.

You occupied yourself with scanning every car you drove past, either on the road or parked, searching for any sign of your brother's truck. Having a specific task to focus on helped keep the fear at bay.

So did Dean. Just having him there across the bench seat from you made it a little easier to breathe.

_I'm not alone in this._

He and Sam were here with you. You couldn't have asked for more capable men to come to your aid than the Winchesters.

When the two of you met up with Sam again it was on a dead end street. Sam was leaning against the parked rental car in front of the last house, arms folded across his broad chest.

As you and Dean got closer you spotted it in the last fading rays of natural light. Your brother's truck was parked forty yards from Sam on the other side of the road.

"That's it," you exclaimed, pointing for Dean.

Dean quickly pulled over by Sam and you hopped out of the car before he cut the engine, running to the truck to search for signs of your brother, or anything that might lead to him.

"How did you find it?" You called out to Sam as you opened the driver's side door and rummaged around. His phone was lying broken on the seat.

"I didn't," Sam said. And that was when you remembered you hadn't described the truck to Sam. He and Dean approached as you were deciding there weren't any definitive answers in the truck. You sighed and climbed back out, but Dean gaited with a jerk of his chin for you to leave the door open for him. He reached inside the cab long enough to pop the hood, then made his way around to look underneath.

“Engine still hot?”Sam asked.

Dean closed the hood again, shrugging. “Warm. Impossible to know if that's just from sitting in the sun or not.”

"Where are we?" you asked, eyeing the closest house nearby and the field that ran for several acres next to it where the road ended. Just beyond that was a wooded area.

"Victim number three," Sam answered, heading back across the street. You and Dean followed as he continued. "After Kevin Jacobson went MIA, a teacher from the high school was killed between the school and his home. As far as I could tell from the reports, the police don't have any reason to tie the disappearance and the murder together."

"That's probably because they're still convinced a freaking animal made the kills," Dean piped in.

"Yeah, well, this one's the clincher." Sam gestured with a thumb over his shoulder at the house. "Eighteen year old boy, defensive lineman on the high school football team for three years running, killed in his own kitchen last night. No sign of of a break in, no reason to believe a wild animal would have been in the house with him, but his body was ravaged. Our Rugaru just walked out and shut the door behind him afterward."

You swallowed hard and didn't miss the way Dean cast a furtive glance in your direction. You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, though, staring at your shoes instead. You were having a hard time not envisioning your brother's mangled body on a kitchen floor, and you were afraid of catching a glimpse of something in Dean's green eyes confirming your worst fears might be coming true.

You were hanging on by the thin string of encouraging words he'd spoken to you in the car. You weren't about to risk losing what little hope you had just now.

"Kevin Jacobson's house is just on the other side of this patch of trees," Sam pointed out, gesturing across the field. "Your brother's could be nearby investigating after he heard about the murder last night."

"Those trees look like a good place to hide out between meals?" you asked, gesturing with a jerk of your chin. Dean and Sam both looked at you in concern. "What? I'm just saying what we're all thinking."

"I could drive back around to Kevin's place," Sam said slowly. "We could make a push through the trees on both ends and see if we can flush anything out."

Dean was still watching you with worry etched on his face, but he finally answered Sam. "Yeah, okay."

A few minutes later, after the guys had each taken a turn changing their clothes in the backseat of the Impala, Dean opened the trunk and he and Sam each grabbed a propane torch and flashlights. Sam tucked a bottle of lighter fluid into his jacket pocket, too.

"I'm coming," you said before Dean could try to tell you otherwise. He opened his mouth to argue and you interrupted him with a glare, adding, "Unless you're planning on cuffing me to your car...."

Dean looked tempted, but in the end he handed you a flashlight and pistol. You took them without question, tucking the gun into the back of your jeans. It wouldn't kill a Rugaru, but it might slow one down.

He closed the trunk of the car a little harder than necessary and cast a glance at the trees in the near distance. He swore under his breath as he turned to face Sam. "Be careful," he told him.

"You, too," Sam said. Sam nodded at you before he climbed into your rental car again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A break in the case and some good old-fashioned hunter instincts put you and the Winchesters on the right trail. But the sun is going down, and along with the daylight, the odds of finding your brother alive are fading fast.

You knew in any other situation going in after a Rugaru in the dark in a grove of trees would be crazy. You hoped Dean and Sam understood that you appreciated the risk they were taking for your sake. You didn't have the words to tell them just then. 

Flashlights on, you and Dean began making your way across the large field on foot as Sam drove away.

You were anxious as hell. Your brother was here. In what condition you'd find him, you couldn't imagine. There was no obvious way to tell how long his truck had been parked on the street, and you didn't have time to waste knocking on doors to see if anyone had the answer.

"Promise you'll listen to me in there," Dean said to you, pulling you from your thoughts. 

You glanced at him as you stepped over a gopher hole. "Sure."

"Promise," he reiterated, his voice deeper now. 

"I promise, okay?"

You couldn't help but notice the irony in your role reversal from the last time you'd seen Dean. He'd been your patient then, having to follow your instruction as you took care of him. You were about as good at following orders as he'd been, except now you were in his world. 

It was a world you recognized, but not one you ever thought you'd find yourself drawn into again.

Dean didn't say anything else until you reached the tree line. "There are tracks here," he said softly as he surveyed the dirt.

You crouched down to study a print carefully, trying to judge the size in comparison to your brother's boots. "It could be his."

Dean took a breath and quietly said. "I know we're pushing through here, but we don't want this thing to get a jump on us first. We need to be quiet as we move. Can you do that?" You nodded. "Good. Sam should be there just about now. Let's get moving."

You followed two steps behind Dean, placing your feet where he stepped when leaves or twigs were thick on the ground. He was stealthy, and you were reminded of the times you'd followed behind your brother or father in the same manner. 

You'd almost forgotten just how every little noise in nature suddenly felt threatening when you listened in the dark. Even a bird taking flight or a squirrel rattling a branch made you take pause, questioning your instincts. Bushes and tree branches caught on your clothes, clinging like tiny fingers.

Dean moved forward, cautious, steady. He tracked the boot prints as he went, and the two of you slowly advanced deeper into the trees. You pulled the pistol from your pants, gripping it in your dominant hand, barrel toward the ground for good measure, holding the flashlight with the other hand. 

A noise in front of you to the left made both of you freeze in your tracks, and Dean reacted by swiftly tugging you up against his back to place himself between you and the source of the sound. 

You held your breath, listening with all your might, and let Dean do the sweeping with his flashlight. 

"He knows we're here," Dean whispered. "Get your gun."

"Two steps ahead of you," you responded in hushed tones, adding the beam from your flashlight to the search once again. 

"Michael?" Dean called out into the dark, startling you. You wet your lips with your tongue, eyes flitting back and forth as you watched in between the trees. "Michael, I know you're out there." Dean tried. "I know what's happening to you ... what happened to your twin brother, Kevin."

Dean was silent for a beat, listening again. The whooshing sound of an out of place breeze in the otherwise still night came from your right this time. 

Rugarus were fast. 

You spun instinctively to stand back to back with Dean now, gaining a wider perspective between the two of you as you slowly turned in a circle. 

"Michael, I have answers for you," Dean offered. "I know that might not seem like much right now-"

"What do you know?" answered a voice behind you, directly in front of Dean. 

Dean squinted to see in the dark, and a shadowy figure moved between the trees, slower than before. 

"Quite a bit, actually," Dean said, his voice playing at casual. "Your bones are shifting under your skin, right?" No response to that, so Dean kept talking. "I also know that you're hungry.... Like, eat a horse and the whole barn along with it, hungry."

"So what if I'm hungry?" the faceless voice called out. 

"Look man," Dean said. "I wish I could just take you to a steak house and buy you dinner and a beer, but I think we both know that's not gonna cut it."

"I've got dinner right here," Michael replied. 

You felt bile rising in your throat, but Dean didn't seem phased. 

"Come on, Michael. You don't think I'm going to make it that easy, do you? This ain't exactly my first rodeo."

"What makes you think I'm talking about y-" But Michael was cut off, crying out as if he were in pain. Dean sprang into action, taking advantage of Michael's distraction, assuming Sam had caught him from behind. Then you heard it. 

Your brother's voice, muffled, pained, saying, "I'm not going down without a fight, you piece of shit!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding your brother meant coming face to face with the monster that was intent on killing him. In a last ditch effort to save the only family you have left, you throw yourself in the path of danger and desperately hope all of your medical training is enough.

You reacted emotionally, rushing toward the sound of your brother's voice, calling out his name. He was here. He might be hurt, but he was here. And you were going to save him.

The Rugaru appeared wounded, but only just enough to piss it off. It crouched down low to the ground, and Dean got his first good look at your brother. He was lying on the ground next to the creature, already injured, and he screamed as the Rugaru bit into him just before you appeared in the beam of Dean's flashlight. 

"Go!" Sam yelled from out of nowhere, having just caught up. 

Dean dove, catching you with an arm around your waist as the Rugaru raised its head in your direction. Dean pulled you with him to the dirt, pinning you against the ground with his weight despite your efforts to break free. 

All Dean could think about was keeping you from throwing yourself back in the Rugaru's direction. He knew you'd do it to get to your brother. 

Hell, he'd do it to get to Sam. 

Dean watched from the ground as Sam quickly sprayed lighter fluid in the Rugaru’s direction just before it charged Sam, slamming him into the closest tree. 

Sam crumpled to the ground, unmoving, and the Rugaru lost interest in him and turned back to face the rest of you. Dean jumped up, putting himself between you and the danger and calling Sam's name as you started crawling over to where your brother was lying on the ground. 

He was breathing hard, and you'd lost your flashlight and couldn't see exactly what it was that was keeping him from getting up, but you knew it must be serious. You smelled lighter fluid and the coppery scent of blood. He was covered in both.

"I'm here," you told him. "Where are you hurt?"

He coughed and said your name, his voice scratchy. "You shouldn't have come," he stated, followed by another cough. 

"Of course I came," you told him. "Tell me where you're hurt." You felt around in the dark, trying to evaluate his injuries, but without light it was a struggle. 

"It's bad, sis," he mumbled. "You need to leave me here and get out now. Let these boys finish him off."

"Don't be crazy. I'm not leaving you. I'm going to find my light."

Dean's flashlight flew through the air and you turned and scrambled for it, trying to give Dean light to see without blinding him with the beam. He was having an honest-to-god fist fight with the Rugaru now, and Dean was tough, but the Rugaru was tougher. You weren't sure how long he could hold it at bay. You had kept a grip on your gun, but didn't dare take a shot for fear of hitting Dean instead. 

You caught a glimpse of Sam getting to his feet. His arm looked wrong, and you thought even in the poor lighting that he'd likely dislocated his left shoulder. He rummaged around for his light and propane torch, but you weren't sure how he would use fire when Dean was so attached to the Rugaru in the fight. 

Sam did get to his flashlight, which freed yours up to focus on your brother. 

You dropped to your knees next to him again, using the light to quickly survey the extent of his wounds. He'd been bitten, and not just bite marks, but giant pieces of missing flesh and muscle from his abdomen and shoulder. You could see the whites of his intestines through one hole in his belly which was filling with blood and other fluid that wasn't where it belonged. You did your best to put on your brave doctor face. 

"S'bad," he repeated. His leg was also broken, bent grotesquely, and blood had soaked through the whole of his pant leg. The compound fracture of his femur had severed an artery. He was bleeding out. At that rate you knew he wouldn't be conscious long. "Dammit, get out while you can!" he told you, gritting his teeth in pain. 

"I came here to save your ass." You pulled off your button up shirt, twisting and wrapping it tight at the top of his thigh as a tourniquet, but at that very moment Dean caught the Rugaru with a mean right hook, giving Sam a chance to yank the Rugaru with his good arm, catching it by surprise, and throwing it to the ground. It landed only a few feet from you with a crunch. It was hurt, disoriented, but that wouldn't last long.

You saw the lighter in your brother's hand from the corner of your eye just as he flicked a flame into place, smiled and said, "I love you." He gave a little definitive nod in Dean's direction, which confused you. And with that, he set his own sleeve on fire, rolling his body in one last heroic act. 

By the time you realized what was happening, you were too late to stop it. Flames spread across the whole of him, fueled by the lighter fluid that had soaked into his clothes. He hit the Rugaru with his good leg, kicking at it as he rolled. The flames spread, swallowing up the creature as well. 

You scrambled backward as a reaction to the heat as both of their bodies were engulfed in flames. Your own horrified scream mixed with that of the Rugaru's as Dean threw his arms around you from behind. He pulled you tight up against him as you cried out and fought to break away, icy terror gripping at your heart.

Dean felt your knees buckle as your brother burned along with the monster. He gripped you tighter, spun you around to protect you from the awful scene, holding your head to his chest.

Your blood pounded in your ears, lungs gasping for air, shoulders shaking as the crushing reality of your loss settled in on you like the weight of a building collapsing.

"I've got you," Dean said in your ear as sobs wracked your body.

The strength seemed to seep from your limbs, and you found yourself holding onto him like he was all that was left in the world. Instead of grief and pain causing you to feel numb, it had the opposite effect, sharpening your senses so that everything was heightened. 

The air was heavy, thick with heat and smoke and the smell of burning flesh. It was a smell you'd never forgotten, and you flashed back to the night your parents had died; to the place your brother had stood holding you just like this, that same smoke and burning flesh scent in the air as you'd sent your parents off hunter-style. 

And with that thought, you realized you were witnessing your brother's own hunter's funeral.

All you knew was loss and stench in the air and Dean's arms around you. His voice was in your ear, whispering in soothing tones, though you couldn't focus on the actual words he spoke. 

It took some time - you had no idea how long - for your body to start to relax, your lungs to draw air in more steadily, and your eyes to dry up. Dean didn't loosen his grip on you until you lifted your head off his chest, and even then he seemed hesitant to you let go. But the caregiver in you was screaming that he and Sam were hurt. Letting those instincts push everything else you were feeling aside was the easiest decision you'd made all day. 

You slowly took a step back and looked up at him. Dean's hands still gripped your waist. You nodded to let him know you really could stand on your own, and he dropped his hands to his sides, frowning when you shivered. 

Having used your shirt on your brother's leg, you'd been left with just your strappy tank top, and without Dean's body heat to warm you, the cool night air was chilling. Dean shrugged his second shirt off his shoulders and held it out for you to slide your arms into one at a time. 

You pulled Dean's shirt tight around you and bent down to pick up the flashlight you'd let fall at your feet. You clicked it on and used it to inspect Dean's face. 

His right eye was turning black and purple already, swelling. Blood had trickled from his nose, dry now. There was a cut along his jawline, and another on his left cheek, all from the blows the Rugaru had landed.

You tried not to think about the heartbreak in his green eyes as he gazed back at you - how it was for you - as you reached a hand up to cup his face, turning it slightly to inspect him closer. He didn't protest, but the fact that he stood there without saying a word made the air feel heavier than it already was. 

You turned in search of Sam. He was sitting on the ground in silence with his back up against a tree trunk a few feet away, cradling his left arm to his chest. You forced yourself not to look too closely at the scorched earth and smoldering ashes as you passed by, making your way over to Sam. 

"Your shoulder," you said to him, wishing your voice wasn't so hoarse. "Let me see."

"It's fine," Sam said. "Dean can-"

"Sam," you said softly. "Let me do this for you. It's the least I can…." Sam considered you a moment and then nodded. "Breathe into the pain," you told him as you gently gripped his hand and arm just above his elbow. He took a deep breath, and nodded, and with an expert twisting motion you manipulated his humerus back into the socket. 

Sam's muffled cry rang out through the night, sending a few birds into flight. You grabbed hold of him gently, holding him upright as the mild shock came and went from his body. You helped him lean back against the tree again and said, "Rest here a bit. I don't want you on your feet yet."

He nodded, beads of sweat pooling on his forehead. You looked over your shoulder at Dean and said, "We're going to need your belts for a sling."

Dean immediately removed his belt and handed it to you as Sam unbuckled his own with his good hand and slowly pulled it through the loops in his jeans. 

A few minutes later you had Sam's arm secured snugly against his middle, one of the belts looping around the back of his neck, holding the weight of his arm to relieve pressure on his shoulder. 

Dean pulled Sam to his feet and then hooked an arm protectively around your shoulders before the three of you began the walk back to the cars.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night's events leave you feeling shocked and numb, but you soldier on. Dean and Sam both sustained injuries in the fight against the Rugaru, and the doctor in you takes over, shelving the grief until tomorrow.

Once you made it out of the small patch of woods you froze up at the thought of getting in your brother's pickup truck, but Sam insisted he could drive with his good hand. In the end Sam drove the truck and Dean took you around to retrieve your rental car, and the three of you met up at the motel.

Dean saw your eyes shift hesitantly toward the door to your brother's room. "It's okay," he said. "I'll go get us a couple of rooms." 

He moved to go and you reached out, grabbing his arm. "Maybe just one," you said slowly. He gave you an understanding nod and you joined Sam, leaning against the wall with him as Dean went. 

"I don't think any of us want to be alone tonight," Sam said.

"How's your shoulder?" you asked, changing the subject. 

"It'll be fine. Range of motion is good. I don't think I tore any ligaments or anything. It's just sore."

"That's a relief," you told him. You leaned your head against his good arm and the two of you waited in comfortable silence until Dean returned with a room key. 

You were emotionally and physically drained, and you were grateful when Dean insisted on bringing your bag in for you at the same time he retrieved his and Sam's from the Impala.

You and Dean both felt like Sam should take one of the two queen beds alone so he could get comfortable and not be jostled during the night. You also insisted Sam got first dibs in the shower. He didn't argue. 

You created a better sling using a button down shirt of Sam's, propping his arm up with a pillow so he was comfortable once he got into bed. 

After your turn in the shower you slipped into your pajamas and sat on the bed, staring at the TV show Sam had turned on without really watching it. You were trying not to think about the way your brother's blood had swirled around the shower drain in pink ribbons as you’d washed off. 

Then you spotted the first aid kit you'd given the guys back at home. It was sitting by Dean's bag. You brought it back to the bed with you and were waiting there for Dean when he finished showering and walked out of the bathroom in his pajamas. 

Dean looked like he was surprised to see you still awake. You gestured for him to sit on the edge of the bed and scooted over next to him, taking some antiseptic to the cuts on his face. He didn't even wince while you cleaned and bandaged him up as Sam snored softly in the next bed. 

"I guess the chances of there being an ice machine at this place probably aren't very good," you told Dean, gauging the bruising around his eye. 

"Nah. I asked." Then he added, "It'll be fine," after he saw you frown. "I'm good. Really. I only asked for Sam’s shoulder."

"Well, it'll have to do. We'll get you both an ice pack in the morning, and a real sling for Sam."

Dean sat there on the edge of the bed, looking like he wanted to say something more. You thought he was going to let the moment pass, but he reached over, squeezing your knee, and you were almost afraid to meet his gaze. 

Then he breathed your name and your eyes locked on his. "I'm so sorry," he said, his voice rough. You saw moisture in his eyes and you leaned in and wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Dean sat there, rigid, back stiff and unmoving for a long moment. "You were counting on me, and I-" 

"Don't you dare try to own any of this," you told him, using all the authority you could muster in your voice. His arms slowly come around you and you took a breath, searching for the words you needed him to hear. 

"Without you and Sam all I would know is that my brother went missing on this hunt. I wouldn't have any idea what actually happened." You drew back and looked at him, his green eyes meeting yours. "We couldn't save him, but at least this way I might find some closure … some peace."

Dean blinked and looked away, his gaze dropping to the floor. 

"Losing him ... it's bad enough, but I couldn't live with it if I thought you were going to torture yourself over what happened tonight," you told him. "Promise me you won't."

Dean cleared his throat, still looking like he'd just hoisted the planet up on his own two shoulders.

"Promise me, Winchester," you insisted.

His eyes found yours again and he managed a weak nod, which you knew was about as good as you were going to get. You bopped his knee lightly with your fist and he reacted by looping his elbow around the back of your neck, hugging you one more time and leaving a kiss on the top of your head.

You hoped that meant he wasn't going to hate himself for your sake. You wished you could actually believe it. 

"We should probably try to get some sleep," you suggested. 

He nodded and got up to put the first aid kit away and turn the TV off. You climbed under the sheets and Dean slipped into the bed next to you. You rolled onto your side, facing him, finding solace in his close proximity.

"Good night, Dean."

"G'night."

Dean lay there on his back, cocking his head to the side just far enough to see your silhouette in the dark across the bed. 

It had been so close. He and Sam had gotten you there, but not before your brother had sustained life-threatening injuries.

Dean had caught flashes of you working to save your brother in between the hits he'd taken and the punches he'd thrown in an effort to keep the Rugaru off of you both.

He'd known after taking one look at your brother that his chances of making it were slim to none. On one hand, Dean wished you'd had the chance to try and save him. You deserved that chance. On the other, he was grateful you wouldn't have to blame yourself if his injuries were too great and you weren't successful. 

It was a lose/lose situation. And you'd lost the only family you had left in this world. Your brother had sacrificed himself by giving in to the inevitable and taking the Rugaru down with him. He'd done it to guarantee your safety. Still, Dean knew that didn't make it any easier to swallow. 

He couldn't stop thinking about the look on your face as your brother had gone up in flames. The sheer terror in your voice as you'd screamed, scrambling to break free from Dean's iron grip on you as he pulled you back. The way your body shook as he held you against him, the devastation causing you to tremble as you sobbed into his chest. 

Then the tears had eventually stopped, and Dean wasn't sure that was any better. You'd gone into doctor mode then, inspecting his wounds and putting Sam's shoulder back in, focused on helping everyone else, as usual. But they hadn't known how in the hell to help you. Not at all. 

Dean wasn't going to forget anything about this night. Not for a long time. He was glad you'd wanted to stay close. He hadn't wanted to let you out of his site for a minute. 

He listened to your soft breathing as you lie in the bed next to him, the rhythm of it letting him know when you finally drifted off to sleep. He resisted the urge to pull you closer to him, to drape his arm over your waist and hold you against him while you slept. To let you feel his warmth, to remind you that you weren't alone on this horrific night. 

He hoped your dreams wouldn't be plagued by nightmares and re-living the horror you'd just experienced. 

But mostly he wondered how it was that you were still able to look at him like you did after he'd failed you in every way that mattered. Like he could rope the freaking moon and hand it to you on a silver platter. He wondered if you even realized you were doing it every time your bright eyes locked on his. 

And Dean didn't want to know what it was going to feel like when you realized he didn't deserve it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faced with the daunting task of gathering your brother's belongings is almost enough to overwhelm you. Dean puts aside his guilt over letting you down in order to try and help you through your grief.

Dean woke up first the next morning. He was dressed and ready for the day, and Sam was just getting out of bed when you opened your eyes. 

It took you a moment to orient yourself. You glanced around and saw Dean standing by the TV in the room, the bruising and cuts on his face were evident even in the poor lighting. Then it all came rushing back to you in a dizzying heap that brought back that pit in your stomach again.

Your brother was dead. It wasn't a nightmare.

"Sleep okay?" Dean asked, eyeing you in concern as you sat up in bed. 

"Yeah.” You'd slept all right, a feat you'd likely only managed because you literally had a Winchester on either side of you in the room. The sleep hadn't been particularly restful, but it sure as hell beat sitting awake all night.

You had a raging headache, which was no surprise, and your eyes were dry and raw from all the crying the night before, but all of that was to be expected. You climbed out of the blankets and made your way to the bathroom sink, splashing cold water on your face and gazing at your reflection in the mirror.

Your eyes had a hollow quality that hadn't been there yesterday morning. You didn't recognize the woman staring back at you, at least not a hundred percent. But you did recognize what was happening. 

You'd seen your share of grief. More than enough to span a lifetime. The worst of it starting when your parents had been killed. And more recently at work anytime you lost a patient. As a doctor it fell on you to deliver the horrific news to loved ones in those times when circumstances were beyond your control and even the miracle of modern medicine couldn't save a life. 

You’d cried yourself to sleep on several occasions after losing patients, but you'd always been able to shake off the grief, the doubt, and move forward, rallying for something bigger than yourself, solidified in your purpose and your desire to save everyone you could. 

Gazing at your reflection now, you wondered if you'd find that passion, that drive, ever again. It was honestly hard to imagine. The world just felt … different. You glimpsed Dean watching you in the mirror and quickly busied yourself with finding your toothbrush.

There was a hollow pit inside your core that matched that faraway look in your eyes, but going through the motions seemed like the only thing to do. You brushed your teeth, pulled your hair up, and slid over a few feet to make room for Sam when he joined you at the sink. 

Half an hour later you were hitting up the local pharmacy in the Impala, Sam opting to sit in the car while you and Dean went inside in search of a sling for him. One sling and several ice packs later you rejoined him in the car. You made one more stop at a convenience station to get a bag of ice and headed back to the motel. 

You needed to face your brother's motel room to collect his things, and you'd been putting it off, but once you had Sam situated with an ice pack on his shoulder and the sling on his arm, you were running out of excuses for delaying the inevitable. 

"I can come with you," Dean offered as you filled another ice pack and handed it to him for his face. 

He seemed to understand your dilemma without having to voice it. You considered him a moment, but shook your head. "Thanks, but I think I need to do this alone."

Dean nodded. "Sam and I will be right here if you need us. There's no rush. Take your time."

You walked outside, going five rooms down to the one your brother had stayed in. Once you had the door open you stepped in and forced yourself to take several long, deep breaths in a row before closing it again behind you. You found yourself sitting on the edge of the bed, overwhelmed, gazing around the room with growing trepidation.

You been in this room yesterday, but yesterday you'd been holding onto the hope that you could still get to him in time. That he might still be alive…. Everything about the space felt different now. Colder. 

It had been almost a month since he'd been back home. He'd taken on several cases back to back, which wasn't unusual, but it just meant that you hadn't spent time with him in what seemed like forever. He'd been here in this room so recently, and you'd been so damn close.

You sat like that for several long minutes, torturing yourself about what might have happened if you'd gotten his voicemail sooner. If you'd caught an earlier flight. If you'd missed something you should have seen in his notes. Or read between the lines in that voicemail he'd left for you, and how maybe something should have clued you in on the Jacobsen twin situation earlier….

And then you just needed to get it over with. Because torturing yourself wasn't going to bring him back. 

You gathered up his clothes first. The smell of him on on the hoodie that hung over the chair back brought tears to your eyes when you thought you didn't have any left. You pulled it on over your shirt and tried to stop crying so you could see to keep going. 

His duffle sack had random toiletries in it, along with some fake IDs, some extra magazines for his favorite pistol, and more clothes.

Once you had the bag packed up you did a quick walk-through to make sure you hadn't missed anything before heading back to the other room. 

Sam was alone in the room, and he answered your question before you could ask it. 

"He just went to get food," Sam assured you. "One thing you'll learn about Dean is that he never stops eating." You grinned and watched as Sam's gaze fell to the bag you'd set down by the door. "All done?" he asked tentatively. 

"With the room," you told him. "I don't know what I'm going to do with his truck though."

Sam gave you a sympathetic nod. "I guess you don't have much use for a pickup truck?"

You sighed and shrugged, going to sit next to him on the bed. "Is it weird if I want to keep it?"

"I don't think that's weird at all." Sam smiled and said, "Keep it."

You couldn't help but grin at the thought. "Think so?" you asked just as the door opened and Dean walked inside.

"Think what?" Dean asked as he closed the door with his foot and started setting down food on the little desk. 

"I was just saying I could see her driving that pickup truck around. She could totally pull it off," Sam told Dean. 

"Hell yeah," Dean agreed without missing a beat as he grinned at you. "I can see you cruising around with the radio blasting and the windows down. Thinking about keeping it?"

"It just seems wrong to get rid of it," you said with a shrug. 

"I get that," Dean added. "If anything ever happened to me and Sam sold Baby, I'd come back and haunt his ass."

Sam nodded. "Sad thing is he means that."

You smiled, grateful for the lighter mood their banter had instantly created. You sat cross-legged on the bed and ate the assortment of breakfast foods Dean had picked up at a little cafe to go. Sam sat at the little desk, which made it easier to eat with one hand, and Dean sat next to you on the bed.

Dean watched you as you ate the breakfast he'd brought back to the motel, trying to get a feel for how you were really coping. There were fresh tear stains on your cheeks from this morning, and you were wearing a hoodie that was too big and most likely belonged to your brother. You wore a smile as you teased Sam about his aversion to greasy food, but there was something simmering just below the surface.

Dean didn't know how to help. He tended to push those things onto the backburner himself, but he wasn't convinced that was the best idea. Sure, you'd cried some. You'd gone through your brother's things this morning, but grieving was a funny thing. Maybe it would take weeks to come out … hell, maybe even months, but he was here now. And you'd done so much for him. He just wanted to be there for you. 

He pushed back his own feelings of guilt, of failure, and thought about what you actually needed right now. And what he could do to give it to you.

You met his gaze just then, and he forced a smile and sipped his coffee. The minute you announced you couldn't eat another bite, Dean got to his feet and came around to your side of the bed, offering you a hand. You looked up at him with questioning eyes, glancing at Sam to see if he understood what was happening, but he just gave a little one-shouldered shrug in confusion. You took Dean's outstretched hand and let him pull you to your feet. 

“Come on,” he said, gesturing with a jerk of his chin toward the door as he pulled you along with him. “Be back in a bit,” he told Sam as he led you outside. 

“What are we doing?” you asked casually as Dean closed the motel door behind you.

“Going for a drive.”

“Okay….”

Dean took a few steps and you realized he was walking toward your brother's truck and not the Impala. You froze in place, but Dean had the truck keys in hand. He went around to the passenger side, unlocking the door and opening it, holding it expectantly for you. He didn't say anything, just waited patiently for you to give in and make your way around to join him. You stood by the open door, one hand on the empty seat, hesitating. 

“Hey,” he said, green eyes staring into yours. “Do you trust me?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As you struggle to come to terms with your brother's death, Dean reassures you that you're not alone.

Dean stood there, waiting for you to get in your brother's truck … asking you to trust him.

And you did. With your life. With everything.

So you climbed inside and let him shut the door for you. You took a breath and closed your eyes, hands on your knees. Then you heard the driver's side door open and felt the truck shift slightly under Dean's weight as he got in. You felt the warmth of his hand coming to rest on top of yours, and you took another deep breath and opened your eyes. 

Dean gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before he put the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine rumbled to life. God, it even smelled like your brother in here, mixed with his favorite air freshener, which dangled in little tree-form from the rear view mirror. The weight on your chest was almost crushing, and you felt your lungs working harder than they should have been to draw in air.

You reached for the button to roll the window down, but Dean was one step ahead of you, controlling it from the driver's side. Once the window had fully retracted you gripped the edge of the door there, white-knuckled fingers resting against the warm metal exterior.

Dean put the truck in reverse and backed out of the spot, watching you lean in toward the slight breeze created by the motion. He pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road, casting glances at you as he drove. He turned on the radio, hoping to give you something else to focus on. 

Your brother's phone sat on the seat between the two of you where you'd left it last night after finding it broken. You stole glimpses at it while you watched the scenery outside the window. After a few minutes you found yourself leaning back against the seat again. Dean squeezed your hand again, entwining his fingers in yours, letting your hands rest together between you on the seat. 

He didn't volunteer where you were going, and you didn't ask. You also didn't look at him. Partly because you weren't sure how you felt about seeing him behind the wheel of the truck, and partly because you didn't want to find pity in those green eyes of his.

After a few minutes you weren't convinced Dean actually had a destination in mind. He seemed to be just casually driving around town, though he did manage to avoid Kevin Jacobson's neighborhood. The sun was out, a glaring contradiction to the cool detachment that was attempting to take up root in your chest. 

You didn't keep track of the time, but at least 4 or 5 songs had played through on the radio when Dean pulled into a little carwash. You glanced over at him, but he stared straight ahead as he drove forward into one of the covered lanes. He cut the engine and gave your knee a little squeeze before he opened the driver's side door and got out. You sat there, watching as he walked over to the wall and started dropping coins in the machine built in there. He turned the dial to make a selection and then grabbed the wand that was sheathed nearby. 

The sound of the water as it pelted the truck's exterior echoed around in the cab; the smell of it, mixed with soap, crept in through the vents, filling your nostrils. You took a deep breath and found yourself watching Dean as he maneuvered the wand with care, angling it and thoroughly working to remove any trace of dirt or grime from the paint job.

Soap eventually blocked your view, coating the windshield and windows in a white layer. And for some reason it all just became too much then. You couldn't breathe, trapped in the cab with no way to see out. You found yourself opening the door and bailing, shutting it behind you and jogging the few steps to get out of the covered washing lane. Dean was on the other side of the truck, but he watched you as you went. You only got as far as the vacuums that were set up twenty yards away before sitting down on the little cement wall there. You waved a dismissive hand at Dean when you saw him eyeing you in concern.

He hesitated, but only briefly. You watched without really seeing as he finished cleaning the outside of the truck. Your mind was a whirlwind of emotion. It was hard to focus on one specific thought or feeling long enough to process it before a new, sometimes contradictory one came sweeping in to add to the confusion. 

You were only mildly aware of Dean pulling the truck forward and parking nearby. You didn't really snap out of your thoughts until you heard the engine cut and the door open and close before he came around to quietly sit by you.

“What on earth made me think I could keep this truck?” you confessed to him. “I can barely even hold it together long enough to ride in it, let alone drive it around.”

Dean gave a little understanding nod and considered you a moment. “Keep the truck, or don't keep it. If you think that maybe one of these days you might enjoy driving it, might feel closer to him when you're in it, then keep it. If it's just going to break your heart all over again every time you look at it, I don't think he'd want that for you.”

You sighed and got to your feet, feeling the need to move. God, why was this so hard? 

“I'm a mess,” you said in frustration. “I'm not usually like this. I'm - I'm good under pressure.”

“I'm the last person on earth you have to tell that to,” Dean said softly. “But this is different. Cut yourself some slack.”

You turned on your heel to face him, ran your fingers through your hair and paced a little, hands on your hips. “So much of his life was spent in this damn truck,” you blurted out, kicking the closest tire. Then you let out a humorless laugh, looking up at Dean. “As if I need to tell you. You know all about how that works.”

Dean just watched you, green eyes fixed on your face, about a thousand layers of pain reflecting back in them. 

“And it's not just the truck,” you admitted. “I - I don't know who I am anymore. Without him ... I have no roots. No family….” You gazed up at the late morning sky and sighed. “I don't even date. Not really. You know why?” Dean frowned but didn't speak as you continued. “Because the thought of being with someone who doesn't know what's out there … a relationship built on such a huge lie - it’s not even real.” Your footsteps paused. “It's exhausting holding onto a secret like that. And now? Now I'm all alone in it.”

Dean got to his feet and took a step toward you then. “Everything changed last night,” he said as he came to stand in front of you. “I'm not going to pretend it didn't. Life is drastically different from here on out.” He lifted your chin with his fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. “It’s not fair. And you didn't get any say in the matter. And it's scary as hell to face it. But you gotta believe me when I say you're not alone.”

You weren't going to cry, you'd done plenty of that already, but the feeling of Dean's arms coming around you brought on the sting of fresh tears. You leaned your head against his chest, blinking back the moisture that threatened to fall. After a moment your breathing synced up with Dean's, and you focused on the sturdy thump of his heart against your cheek.

Last night you'd felt raw, which had eventually given way to a creeping numbness that allowed you to sleep. Today you were just floating on the edge of harsh reality, dipping your toes in, grasping for a sense of any normalcy in the future. It was a lot to process.

You lifted your head off of Dean's chest and looked up at him. “He's always been here. Even when Mom and Dad….” Your voice trailed off as you took a shaky breath. “I don't know what life looks like now.”

Dean's hand cradled your head from behind, fingers carding through your hair as he pulled you tight to his chest again. ‘I’ll tell ya what life looks like,” he began, his voice rumbling through his chest in your ear. “You'll wake up every day and put on those blue scrubs that make your eyes pop.”

A breath of air that was as close as you could get to a small laugh burst out of you at that, and you could hear the smile in his tone when he continued.

“And you'll don that white lab coat that you earned by studying your ass off in med school. You'll walk through the doors of that hospital like you own the damn place, and everyone around will be all the better for it.” His voice was serious again, carrying a weight you recognized. “You'll save lives. Every day. Whether it's a kid, someone’s grandma, or some sorry son of a bitch like me.” 

You buried your face deeper into his chest, squeezing him a little tighter. 

“You'll do what you always do. Because you're good at it. Because you love it. And because he'd want you to be happy.” Dean paused for a beat, and you felt his chest expand with a deep breath. “And when you want to talk about things that go bump in the night with someone who gets it, you’ll call me.”

A couple of stubborn tears escaped your eye and soaked into the material of his t-shirt, but Dean just held onto you like he never wanted to let go. For a brief moment it was almost as if he was holding all of the shattered pieces of you together again. Dean was the super glue, sealing up all the shards of your broken heart.

You followed his lead and took a deep breath, trying to soak in the sense of calm his voice was invoking. You hoped it would be enough to sustain you for a bit. When you pulled back, Dean held you at arm's length for a beat, studying your face. 

“And as far as this truck goes,” he said, “you've gotta make that call, but you don't have to make it today.” He brushed a thumb across your cheek, whisking away some of the moisture there. “Hell, Sam and I can drive it back to the bunker and keep it there for you until you decide, if you want. We've got room.” 

“I appreciate that more than you know,” you told him. “I'll definitely think about it.”

He tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear and said, “Come on.” He opened the door for you, and again you found yourself riding shotgun in the pickup. But Dean’s words echoed in your head now, pushing back some of the dread. 

For the first time you realized maybe you'd eventually be able to look at the truck and think about the good things. About how happy your brother had been the day he drove it off the used car lot. About how it had kept him safe on the road for years after that. About the joy you felt whenever you heard it pull up in front of your house, signaling that he'd made it back from another hunt in one piece.

Dean drove across town again, this time pulling into the first gas station you came to, which was a 7-11. He pulled up to the closest pump and climbed out, going around to your side to fuel the vehicle up.

You caught glimpses of him in the side mirror and wondered briefly how you'd ever thank him for what he'd done. What he was still doing. And that went for Sam, as well. Patching up Dean after his Werewolf/Kitsune encounter three months back paled in stark comparison to what the brothers were doing for you now.

And just acknowledging the gratitude in your heart for the Winchesters did a little something more to lighten that heavy weight on your chest. Dean startled you out of your thoughts just then by wrapping his knuckles on the window, making you jump.

“Shit,” you said with a laugh, loud enough for him to hear. “You scared me.”

“We're going inside.” Dean smiled and opened your door, waiting for you to climb out.

“You paid at the pump. Why are we going in?”

He closed the truck door for you and said simply, “Slurpees.”

“What if I don't like Slurpees?”

“Shut up. Everyone likes Slurpees.”

You grinned and he looped an arm over your shoulders, and you let it stay there as you walked with him inside.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Dean and Sam sit down for lunch at a little diner in town. Sam gets a moment alone with Dean and confronts him about his obvious feelings for you.

The little diner in town had food that tasted better than any franchised fast food chain you'd eaten at in the last 6 months. Or maybe it was just that your appetite was finally back today. 

You sat next to Dean in a booth at the far end of the diner, Sam directly across the table from you as the the of you enjoyed lunch together. You stole a fry from Sam's plate, having already finished your own, and Sam didn't so much as crook an eyebrow at you in response. You wondered if you were growing on him just a bit, and the thought made you smile. 

“Are you sure you're ready to head home?” Dean tried. “There's no rush. We can stay a few more-”

“Dean,” you said softly. “I'm not going to be responsible for keeping you and Sam from your next case, whatever it may be. Someone’s got to keep killing monsters. Am I right?”

“I'm lame,” Sam offered, gesturing with a jerk of his chin toward his injured shoulder.

You shook your head, smiling. You'd examined his shoulder at the hotel before checking out, and his range of motion was good. He was still sore, but that was to be expected. Ideally he'd take it easy for a while, but you knew that wasn’t likely. 

“Come on, Sam. You don't honestly expect me to believe you're going to let that stop you from hunting, do you?”

Sam chuckled and said, “Not really.”

But Dean looked indignant. “Hey, you told me no hunting when I-”

“Fractures are a different story, Winchester” you cut him off. “Besides, I'm not convinced you followed doctor's orders to a T, either.”

Dean feigned insult as he dipped a fry in ketchup, but you saw right through it. He was worried about you. It was sweet. 

“Gonna use the ladies room. Be right back,” you said a you slid from the bench and headed across the diner. 

Dean wasn't sulking, at least not intentionally. But Sam was onto him.

“You going to tell her?” Sam asked him, pulling Dean from his thoughts. 

“Hmm? Tell her what?”

Sam just glared at his older brother knowingly. “Oh I don't know. Maybe that you're in love with her?”

Dean shot Sam a bitch face, but his heart wasn't really in it. 

“You're really just going to let her drive away today and not tell her?” Sam said, taking a drink of his water. “God, Dean, I thought you had bigger balls than th-”

“I want to,” Dean cut in harshly, shocking Sam into silence. 

“Look, I can leave you alone for a bit if that's the problem. Just say the word, man.”

Dean shook his head, chewing a fry.

“I’m serious. When are you going to have another chance? In person, I mean.”

“Sam, that's not….” Dean wiped at his face with a hand and sighed. “Just drop it, will you.”

“Hey, I'm the one who has to live with your mopey ass when she drives away today.”

Dean groaned. “I just … I can't. Okay?” But the look on Sam's face made it clear he wouldn't accept that as answer enough. “I won't do that to her. I won't do or say anything that complicates the freaking awesome job and life she has waiting for her back at home. She deserves … ” Dean's voice trailed off as he spotted you exiting the women's restroom across the diner.

“She deserves…?” Sam prompted, still waiting on the answer.

Dean tore his gaze away from you and his eyes locked on Sam’s. “More. She deserves more, okay? More than this,” he said with a sweeping hand gesture at the small diner. “More than me. Just more.”

Sam was still watching his older brother intently when you slid back into the booth and took a sip from the straw of your soda.

“Who else is up for dessert?” you asked, your mouth watering at the thought of a delicious shake.

“Hard pass for me,” Sam said. “I already ate too much.”

You glanced sideways at Dean, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Don't make me eat dessert alone,” you prompted. “Because I'll do it.”

Dean cocked his head a little and said, “Wouldn't dream of it. I need some pie anyway.”

You grinned and signaled the waitress. You could feel Dean's gaze on you as you ordered your favorite shake. There was definitely something tugging at the corner of Dean's smile as he listened to the pie choices and ordered a slice of Cherry, but you couldn't decipher it. 

“Gonna hit the bathroom, too,” Sam said, excusing himself as the waitress walked away. 

“What's up with you?” you asked Dean when you were alone. 

“Nothing.” He smiled at you, and it was almost convincing. Whatever it was, he obviously didn't want to talk about it. “I'm good.”

The waitress brought over Dean's pie and your shake before Sam returned.

You waited for Dean to turn his head and glance out the window next to him as he thoughtfully chewed a bite of pie before you snatched a little from the piece on the plate and put it in your mouth. Sam had a good poker face, and for a moment you thought you'd gotten away with it. But then Dean took another bite with his fork and chewed, swallowed, and proceeded to snatch your shake from your hands to wash it down with a sip.

“Hey,” you said with a laugh. 

“You started it,” Dean said, straight-faced. “I thought we were sharing.”

He raised an eyebrow at you and you grabbed a fork, going in for another bite of pie. That was fine by you. Dean looked like he was going to block you, but he playfully snatched away his pie plate before laughing and setting it down between you both so you could reach. 

You took a small bite, feeling Dean’s eyes on you as you chewed. God, it really was good pie. You should have ordered yourself a piece. You swallowed and chased it with a drink of your shake, and then, feeling Dean's eyes still on you, held the shake out to him to have a sip. 

Once you were thoroughly sugared out, there was really no reason not to be hitting the road. 

The three of you walked out into the sun, where your brothers truck and the Chevy Impala were parked slide by side in the small parking lot. 

You were keeping the truck. At least for now. You couldn't bare to part with it. Dean had helped you return the rental to a place nearby this morning, and your plan was to take a couple of days road tripping home in the truck. 

You glanced at Dean and saw that he was watching you, a myriad of emotions playing out in those green, green eyes. 

“I’m okay,” you said, including Sam with a sweep of your eyes. “Really, guys. At least, I will be.”

“Hey, no one's doubting that.” Dean forced a smile for you, but you knew he didn't want you to go. 

You sighed, smiling at them both. “Look, truth is the longer I put off leaving, the harder it's going to be.” Sam gave you a knowing nod, but Dean just wet his lips and raked his teeth over the bottom one. “If I don't go now, I'm not going to.” 

Whatever objections Dean had at that point, he kept them to himself. You hugged Sam. He wrapped his good arm around you, pulling you to his side tightly. 

“Drive safe, okay? Let us know when you make it home,” he insisted. 

You nodded. “I will. And thank you, Sam. For everything. I means more than you can-”

“No need,” Sam insisted. “Just take care of yourself.”

“That's my line,” you told him, pulling back and gesturing to his shoulder with a jerk of your chin. Sam smiled, nodding, and headed around to take his place in the passenger seat of the Impala.

Dean was staring at his boots as you approached him slowly. You reached up to take his chin in your hand, forcing him to meet your gaze.

“Hey Winchester,” you said softly. “Same goes for you. Thanks.”

A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth, but his hand came around to cradle the back of your head. He pulled you in long enough to leave a kiss at the top of your head, clearing his throat decisively and releasing you. 

You smiled up at him. “Stay out of trouble, kay?”

He gave an almost imperceptible nod. “That's asking a lot.”

“Don’t I know it.” You opened the driver's side door and climbed in the truck, starting the engine. Rolling down the window, you gave Dean a smile. 

“You make that truck look damn good,” he said, smiling back. You even caught a glimpse of that boyish charm in his smile this time. He tapped the top edge of the truck bed twice with his hand and took a few steps back as you put the engine in reverse.

You waved as you pulled out onto the road. Dean nodded and you watched him in the side mirror as you pulled away, several days of driving ahead of you. 

You'd be gone long enough to convince the chief at the hospital that you'd taken some time to grieve, but not so long that you'd be stuck with your thoughts in a way that would drive you crazy.

And maybe Dean had been right about work. Maybe you'd be able to lose yourself in the act of saving people. It seemed to be something he understood on a deeper level himself, the way he had talked. And in the process you might do some good. 

You hadn't been able to save your brother, but surely there were people out there who still needed saving. Hell, without your brother to fall back on, maybe you'd even learn to let people get close to you. It was a long shot, and would most likely take practice, but that was what normal people did, right?

Maybe dreaming of those hauntingly beautiful green eyes would make the nights alone a little more bearable. And maybe things would be okay. Maybe you could really, wholeheartedly do normal now. Maybe you'd even convince yourself that's what you wanted if you tried hard enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Act II is complete, but the saga continues in Act III. Follow the characters and their journey through the rest of the saga.


End file.
